Teaching Movie Moguls to Wipe Drool

By LORI GOTTLIEB

Published: March 4, 2007

IT seems Jackie Rosenberg can't go anywhere without being recognized. Fans come up to her at the dry cleaners, the supermarket, on airplanes, even when she's on vacation as far away as Spain.

''If people just say 'hi,' I don't mind,'' Ms. Rosenberg said, ''but I don't want to be treated like there's no privacy.''

No, she's not the latest YouTube celebrity. She is the leader of an elite mommy-and-me group called Babies First Class in Sherman Oaks, made up largely of entertainment industry clientele.

''I've had people come over in the middle of dinner and ask me about potty training,'' she said. ''My husband finds it unappetizing.''

These days, parents in Los Angeles who are feeling insecure about their child-rearing skills, as most new parents do, can pick from a dizzying choice of child-care experts offering help with sleep training, nutrition, childproofing their homes, delousing their child's hair and even teaching their child to ride a bicycle. But Hollywood parents have claimed a few for their own, turning them into celebrity baby gurus, with their own power, name recognition and aura of exclusivity.

''If you're a parent in this business,'' said Suzanne Todd, a film producer and mother of three, ''you probably have Jackie, Donna, Jill and Jen, and Betsy in your Rolodex.'' She said that these consultants are like movie stars who can easily be identified by their first names, and it would be clear to any of her colleagues with children that she was referring to Ms. Rosenberg; Donna Holloran, the founder of Babygroup Inc., a Westside mommy-and-me group; Jill Spivack and Jennifer Waldburger, the owners of Sleepy Planet, a sleep-training practice; and Betsy Brown Braun, a parenthood expert who runs groups on child development.

The name ''Jackie'' means something to preschool admissions directors because they know that an endorsement from Ms. Rosenberg can affect their school's popularity. Entertainment industry players call in favors from friends to help secure a place in her groups.

And when Ms. Rosenberg tells influential parents what to do, they listen. If, that is, they can get an audience with her.

''People call me the minute they leave the doctor's office and say, 'Don't tell my mother I'm pregnant, but I wanted to get on your list,' '' Ms. Rosenberg said. (For the most part, these baby groups are first come first served, but you probably won't get in if you don't call during the first trimester of your pregnancy.)

But sometimes the relationship between guru and client gets a little complicated. A senior agent at the prestigious United Talent Agency said that she found Ms. Brown Braun ''bossy,'' but the agent did not want her name published because she wanted to remain in Ms. Brown Braun's good graces.

''We're willing to be bossed around by these people because their advice is validated by everyone we know.'' she said. ''You desperately want these experts to like you, because if they don't, it's almost like being publicly labeled a bad mother.''

These are not the Hollywood parents of bygone days, who farmed out nearly every aspect of child rearing, letting nannies tussle with fussy eaters and night nurses figure out how to send overtired babes gently into dreamland.

Ms. Waldburger of Sleepy Planet said that even busy parents with high-pressure jobs are getting extra points for being intimately involved with their child's potty and sleep training. ''I had a client who was shooting a video with Puffy,'' Ms. Waldburger said. ''I'm on the phone with her, and I hear her say: 'Puffy, I can't shoot your video this weekend. I'm sleep-training the twins.' He completely respected her decision.''

That people like Sean Combs think, ''Wow, that's really impressive,'' wasn't the case five years ago, she said, and this has given the consultants a status bump as well.

''We've never had the experience of feeling like we're just the hired help,'' said Ms. Waldburger, whose company's clients have included Conan O'Brien, the singer Carnie Wilson and Ben Stiller and Christine Taylor. Ms. Waldburger's business partner, Ms. Spivack, said she enjoys far more prestige now than when she worked in the entertainment business. ''I was a peon,'' Ms. Spivack said of her job as a literary assistant at Creative Artists Agency. ''All the people whose names were in our Rolodex, I can pick up the phone now, and they'll take my call right away.''

Doug Robinson, a producer on the CBS series ''Rules of Engagement,'' said he was skeptical when he learned of Ms. Spivack's background. ''I thought, 'Oh, no, a former entertainment executive is going to teach my kid how to sleep?' '' he said. ''But two days later, my kid slept through the night. I've referred at least 30 people to her.''

STILL, skill alone rarely catapults an unknown into the limelight. ''We're a tough audience,'' said Robert Morton, the former executive producer of ''The Late Show With David Letterman,'' who has been a client of Ms. Spivack and Ms. Brown Braun. ''We watch people auditioning all day, and you've got to put on a good show to keep our attention.''

Mr. Morton considers parenthood, like running a show, a collaborative process and said he enjoys having ''a baby production team.'' But others have not adjusted to the power-role reversal.

''There are people who think they're too important or famous to listen to me,'' said Ms. Brown Braun. ''A head of a big agency came to me because his child was having separation issues. I said, 'You need to drive your child to school every day for three weeks.' And he said, 'Don't be silly, I can't.' I said: 'O.K., don't. If you can't help your child for three weeks, don't do it.' I think he was sort of stunned.'' (Ms. Brown Braun's seminar subjects include ''Affluenza: The Perils of Overprivilege.'')

Like the celebrities they influence, each baby consultant has a public reputation. Ms. Rosenberg is considered to be authoritative but bordering on controlling: no cellphones or nannies are allowed in her groups, members are told where to sit, and socks must be worn at all times. (One woman who was chided by Ms. Rosenberg after she arrived in flip-flops with no socks is now in an ad hoc group of defectors called the Quitters.) Ms. Holloran is known to have a softer approach, which makes celebrities feel particularly safe about sharing personal experiences.

''When Denise Richards was dealing with her divorce,'' Ms. Holloran said, ''I made sure that whatever she shared in the group wasn't going to end up in People magazine.''

''There have been people in my Donna group who cannot make a move without calling her,'' Ms. Meadow said. ''Donna is hot right now.'' Her groups cost $500 for a series of 90-minute weekly sessions.

Ms. Meadow said one group member wrote a screenplay featuring a ''Donna character'' and others have approached Ms. Holloran about creating a television show. ''You don't just do a baby group in L.A.,'' Ms. Meadow said. ''You have celebrities in your class, and then somebody wants to give you a show.''

At least one baby consultant won't be getting a show anytime soon. Amy Goldreyer, Hollywood's best-kept secret for lice-related house calls, said that while she realizes how well known she has become, people aren't exactly running up to her on the street. Her husband, a sitcom writer, came up with her business name, the Hair Whisperer, because, she said, ''it was really hard to find a name that didn't use the word 'lice.' ''

Photos: ASK DONNA -- Donna Holloran, the founder of Babygroup, leading a support session. (Photo by Stephanie Diani for The New York Times)(pg. 1); SLEEP, BABY, SLEEP -- Jennifer Waldburger, left, and Jill Spivack, the owners of Sleepy Planet, a sleep-training consulting group. Left, Donna Holloran at work. (Photos by Axel Koester for The New York Times; left, Stephanie Diani for The New York Times)(pg. 2)